Lover's Game
by heat of the night
Summary: Cato and Clove grew up hardly giving each other a second glance, but when the time comes for them to compete together, the circumstances completely change their relationship.


Clove hadn't really spoken to Cato before they had been chosen as tributes.

Both had generally the same background – both came from privileged families, both were trained relentlessly from the day of their birth to prepare for the Hunger Games if they were ever picked, both went to the finest school in their District. If they were going to die, they were going to die with a fight that all would witness and remember.

She remembers acknowledging the boy, but never paying him too much attention, at first. He was snarky and clever, but never was he ever cruel, just disrespectful, until they got into the Games, that is. He would get top grades, and all the girls in the school would fawn over him. He would flit in between girls, but he never really held on to one. Clove would laugh at the girls he dumped – at their stupidity at thinking they'd be able to hold him down. Clove could tell that he was a free, reckless soul – he did what he wanted, when he wanted, and no one was going to take that away from him.

She remembers how they would send each other fleeting glances in the courtyard, nods, sometimes. Sometimes they would train against each other, which usually ended with the cocky boy winning. Rarely did they ever speak to each other – there was no need. But when they did, it was a series of sarcastic snips. Despite what some said, they enjoyed their banter. Clove began to enjoy it even more when she started to hold her own against him.

At least, she was smarter than he was – sure, he was clever, but he was not as textbook-intelligent as she was. Though he could win in physical fights against her, he couldn't beat her when it came to their academic marks.

She noticed – and was a bit put off, but glad at the same time – that he never tried to pursue her when they were back home in District 2. She was a fickle thing – no guy held her attention for long, and she wasn't really interested in them anyways. Sure, he was attractive and a complete show off, but she was interested in knowledge and becoming the best she could. The same went for Cato – never could hold onto one woman for long, bored easily. Both were fierce and wanted nothing short of perfection, and Clove knew this. But it didn't stop her from rolling her eyes as he walked off with yet another girl on his arm.

So that was their extent of their childhood interactions – a good training fight every once in a while, back-and-forth insults, and that was it.

But when they were chosen as tributes for the Hunger Games, their entire relationship changed. Cato was no longer even the least bit amused – he was prideful and cold and insulting. Their interactions were more negative than ever before, and she began to grow disdainful of him. Whatever, she had thought, I'll finish him off in the arena, anyhow. She wasn't attached to the boy – he'd be more difficult to kill than the others, but if need be, she would do it.

He grew steelier and steelier the more time they spent in the Capitol. When he trained, he was a ruthless robot, with perfect aim and a powerful knowledge of survival. It was here that he met Glimmer, the flouncy little thing from District 1. The only time he ever showed an expression on his face beyond scowling was when he was flirting with her – Clove hated it. She couldn't deny the jealousy she felt, and she hated it even more. She knew she may have to kill him at one point – but weren't they supposed to allies to a degree? Wasn't he supposed to pay her some attention? Apparently not, because unlike back home, where when they trained, they would help each other out, he completely ignored her there in the Training Centre.

But Clove assured herself that killing him would be that much easier should he continue to ignore her like he had. And besides, Marvel was a half-decent replacement for him – she noticed this garnered her odd glances from Cato, but she didn't acknowledge them. He didn't deserve her attention when all he did was ignore and insult her.

When the Games began and the Careers all joined together in an alliance, he started to talk to her again, and she felt strangely happy when this happened. However, she paid him as little mind as possible, not caring for his little flirting sessions with Glimmer. The blonde was just a distraction – maybe she could get both of them at the same time? She'd figure something out soon.

Turns out, Clove didn't need to – the District 12 girl did for her. Clove remembers hearing something hit the ground, Glimmer screaming and then scrambling about, and Cato, who had been cuddling with her before, ditched the beautiful blonde in favour of not getting stung along with Clove and Marvel. Clove remembers, quite distinctly, too, that as they ran, Cato didn't look back at his short time fling, and instead used his arms to cover his fellow District 2-er from any further tracker jacker stings. It was a rather valiant thing for him to do, and Clove questioned his motives immediately. Just trying to gain your trust, she thought afterwards, he'll use it to kill you later. And so a few days later, when the stings were healing, she didn't thank him.

After Glimmer's death, Cato didn't seem all too sad. Clove knew he wouldn't be – he hadn't really cared for Glimmer, and he was just a passive guy. He was there to win, not mourn.

It didn't take very long for the two to get narrowed down to just each other – Clove had thought up multiple ways to kill Cato, but could never act upon them. She didn't know why – maybe because she'd be lonely? Either way, every time she prepared for his death, he would give her that lop-sided, confident smile and she would feel her resolve slip away. One more day, she'd tell herself, and then I'll get rid of him. But she never did, and she was glad she didn't.

In the time it was just the two of them, the two became understandably closer. They were all the other had to talk to, and when they were alone, she was surprised about the things he'd trust her with. He would tell her things that she was sure even his best friend back home didn't know – but why was he doing it? Was it because he was lonely and needed a confidante, too? Admittedly, she did the same thing. Because if you were going to entrust someone, why not let it be someone who was going to die in a matter of days, possibly? They would take your secrets to the grave.

She remembers how she felt when they announced two people from the same District could win now – she was giddy. She wouldn't have to kill her newfound... friend. She remembers being so happy she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. She remembers being shocked by her behaviour and trying to apologize, only interrupted by his desperate kiss. She blinked at him, her body surging with feelings for this boy that she both despised and adored. She addressed her feelings to him after a few days of pondering – they had given each other some space, and both had thought it over. She thought she must have been going soft, allowing such weakness as flighty romance to enter her head. She thought of nearly a million reasons why she shouldn't feel this way about him, but at the same time her mind came up with a million more why she should. She tried to talk to him about it, tell him no, it was a mistake, but he just kissed her again and again until she was silent.

As they bunked down that night, he told her how they would win and how when they got back to their District, that they would be the ultimate pair. No one would mess with them. She smiled and held his hand, and for the first time in a while, didn't feel lonely anymore. As he pressed kisses to her temples and face, she knew in the back of her head that people would think they were playing a game, copying Lover Boy and that damn District 12 girl. They were supposed to be the star-crossed lovers, not her and Cato. But she couldn't help it, what she felt for him was genuine, and while it scared her, the possibility of winning and having a future with him helped quell these insecurities within her.

She remembers that the night before the feast, he rolled over to her and told her he loved her. She felt like he was messing with her a bit, but she felt her heart swell with hope, too. Maybe he really did – she could find out later, after they won.

She didn't say it back though – why instill a false sense of love in each other? She didn't want to lead him on, and so she didn't.

So the day of the feast came and she woke up, confident that within the week, they would be going home. They both decided that she would go to the feast and gather their backpack up and he would spot her in the forest while looking for hiding tributes – not too far away, just in case something happened. But Clove was sure of it – nothing was going to happen to her. They'd be reunited by lunchtime if all went well.

And so she took off to the Cornucopia. But then she saw the District 12 Girl. And she'd be damned if she'd let a possibility like killing her go. She threw a knife at her head, which narrowly missed lodging completely in it. A sudden hatred filled her, and with a little force, she managed to push District Twelve to the ground.

She taunted her about Rue, and how Marvel killed her. She screeched and hollered in response, fidgeting to try and wrestle Clove off, but to no avail. Then she began to threaten her by bringing up Peeta – what better way to get into Twelve's head then going at her little crush? She was about to cut her again, this time slowly, painfully, planning on ending her—

But Clove's plans were cut short when she was reefed up by her hair by someone else – with a start she saw it was Thresh, the killing machine of the tributes, even worse than Cato. He shouted at her, scaring her senseless, about how he was convinced she killed Rue and how he would end her for it. She tried to fight back, but with his brute force, it was impossible, and so she did the next best thing. She called for her spotter – she called for her Cato.

"Cato!" she screeched, "Cato!"

She remembers hearing him frantically calling her name back before she felt the rock make contact with her temple – it only took two hits, and then Thresh discarded her to the ground and said something to Twelve. Clove didn't know what he said – her head was pounding, her ears ringing, all sounds garbled noises and everything in her field of vision a fading blur.

She laid there on the grass for a few seconds, thinking her last coherent thoughts. I'm going to die. Oh, God, I'm going to die. Cato, please. Come quicker.

As though her wish was granted, a few moments later, and her partner was at her side. He examined the damage to her temple and she saw his face mould into a series of well-hidden sobs, cradling her head gently in his arms.

"Clove," he cried, "please, don't go. Stay here with me – just hold on. We're still going to win this, I promised you. Together. Please, Clove, talk to me!" She managed a blink at him, and felt a tear on her cheek. This was the most emotional she'd ever seen Cato – and it was all because of her. "Clove, I'm begging you, don't...!"

Clove felt her heartbeat slow down, but then spike suddenly when he kissed her, only to fall again. She was going and she was going quickly now. She figured then was a better time than ever – right before her imminent death – that she admit her feelings for him. She hoped her sentence makes sense to him.

"Cato, I love you. M-more... than... anything."

She saw him stop through the blur that was her vision, before whispering the same words back to her. She felt a pressure on her palm and knew he was clutching it for dear life, for her dear life. But it's too late – she already felt the heavy lull of death on her eyelids and her clouded mind.

"Clove?"

His voice became more and more distance each second, and she forced out a smile. She loved him.

She heard another frantic noise from him and a sudden pressure on her lips, her name again, and then she saw white. And she was dead.

This is everything Clove remembers about Cato before her death.

* * *

He remembers how pretty he found her – but she undesirable to him. She was a thin little thing, long black hair, piercing green eyes. She was adorable, not attractive. She was cute, and a good training partner, but certainly not someone he would date.

He liked to make quips at her – she was easy to rile up, and her reactions were, of course, Clove-style, adorable. She was a feisty girl, with a temper to match his own. She could hold her ground against him, and though he was a clever young man, she was clever herself, too. She was the only person he ever thought of as his equal – intellectually and physically.

He remembers how, though he usually used to keep his cool, he would sometimes study furiously just to get better scores than her on tests. But he never did – and she would send him a snarky smirk which he would return. She had spunk, that Clove.

He liked it. He liked her.

He remembers being more than a little irked by her ignoring of him at times. He would try to show off to a multitude of girls, but the only opinion he really cared for was hers. It was because if she approved, then he knew that he was getting somewhere; that he was improving. Other girls would simply fawn over him and tell him he was the best there was – that's not what he wanted to hear. He wanted the truth, however brutal, so that he could constantly improve himself so he could be the best. And he knew he could get this from her – but he could never get as much as a glance of appreciation from her when they were in public. Only when they were training, in private, did he earn a few compliments, learn a few tips.

He remembers that as they both grew up, he began to notice her differently. She was no longer an awkward little girl, but she was growing into a rather lovely young woman. He had to bite his tongue and tell himself not to stare at her, because not only did he not wish to upset the girl he was currently courting, he didn't want to disrupt them. They had a system, and it was a system that worked perfectly, proficiently. So how could he bring himself to mess with such a flawless equation like their relationship?

He couldn't. So he didn't say a word – just admired from a distance... and preoccupied himself with a armful of girls. This gained her silent disapproval, but he never noticed that.

His world stopped just a bit when they were both chosen as tributes – how was he supposed to kill her? He trusted her with so much, though she didn't quite know this. It was the little things – like his subtle insecurities about his techniques and his grades and his what ifs. And now he was going to have to kill her – or her, him. Either way, he remembers dreading that he'd have to distance himself. He'd half to cut off all emotional connections to her if he was to draw her blood without hesitance or regret. So when he shook her hand up on that stage – all of his District watching – he didn't make eye contact. Good thing, too – he would have been able to take her pained look.

All the way to the Capitol and during their stay there, the pair barely exchanged a few words. He could tell she was confused, maybe a bit hurt, even – or was he just imagining things? – but he couldn't stop. It was for the better, really, and one day soon, she'd come to realize it. Be it the next day over, or the eve of her death, she'd figure it out.

He found a good distraction from Clove out of the District 1 female tribute, Glimmer. He spent more time training with her than he did with Clove, which he wasn't too happy with – he was most comfortable with the petite raven-haired girl – but it was for the better, he told himself. Too bad her absence in his life only made his heart yearn for her attention more. He felt both oddly glad and saddened – the part that was desperately and secretly in love with Clove hated it, but the cockier side of him loved it – by the glares she would send him when he whispered something to Glimmer, who would giggle in response.

He hated it – his weakness for her. Why was he so dependent on her approval? Why couldn't he just shake her from his mind, his heart? Why was it all so difficult for him? When the time came, if it ever did – which he hoped it didn't, at least for him – he'd kill her quickly. Wouldn't give himself the chance to catch her eye just before he did – he'd have to be heartless with her, just like the others.

And that's when he knew he'd have to build a new nature for himself – he couldn't just be cocky, snarky Cato anymore. He had to be heartless and cruel and ruthless – he'd have to gain complete control by losing it. So instead of just ignoring her, he begun to become nasty, too. He'd throw snide comments her way, force himself to seem appeased by her hurt frown. Little did she know it hurt him more than it ever would her.

With his dismissal of her, he begrudgingly noticed her finding different means of communication. She was never a social butterfly like himself, but like anyone else in the world, she needed someone to talk to on occasion. And so with him going off with Glimmer, Clove naturally talked with Marvel, District 1's other tribute. She would sometimes laugh at something the older boy said, sending a chill into Cato's slowly freezing heart. The fact that Marvel was the one making her laugh and not him made his heart thump jealously in his chest, but with a little effort, he managed to keep up his newfound frosty demeanour.

When the Games started, it was only logical that he and the other Careers join together in an alliance. However short it may be, he was glad it allowed him to once again talk with Clove without the thought in the back of his mind that he may have to end her, though it did linger there.

Clove was hostile to him – it was explainable. He had ignored her and then been horrid to her, so how could he expect her to act? He wished he could tell her it was all an act – but they were on camera constantly, and there was already a pair of 'star-crossed lovers' in the Games.

It was difficult for him to keep up his general ruthless, cold front, while still keeping something with Glimmer for Clove's sake and reacquainting with the girl again. He honestly didn't feel much for Glimmer beyond just pure physical attraction – she was beautiful and striking, but she wasn't Clove. His Clove.

He remembers the night before the tracker jacker attack, how Marvel and Clove were talking and how he was trying to keep focussed on killing Twelve up in the tree and keeping Glimmer entertained, but how he just couldn't. How he abhorred that Clove, who he had known for most of his years, had shut him out and how this District 1 tribute just waltzed into his place so easily. It was infuriating to the already emotionally volatile teen. He would inch his way back into her good graces, though, he would.

The next morning, they were ambushed by Twelve. He remembers hearing Clove scream and bolting from his sleep, and upon spotting the tracker jacker hive, ditched Glimmer and took off with Clove and Marvel towards the lake. He doesn't remember Glimmer's screams, he remembers wanting nothing more than to protect Clove, using his arms to shield her from the vicious stings of the tracker jackers.

He does remember, after they had dealt with their stings, seeing Glimmer's image in the sky and not really feeling anything – maybe a little sad, if that. His heart didn't beat for the late blonde, but for the dark-haired girl in front of him.

He remembers when their supplies were blown up – he remembers being so damn furious that he walked right up to the District 3 boy and broke his neck in front of Clove and Marvel. He remembers how horrified Clove looked – what? She knew what he was becoming! – and how she touched his shoulder to restrain him from pounding the kid's face in before he was picked up by the hovercraft. He remembers that one-second look of terror in her eyes as she regarded him, and felt nothing but deep-rooted guilt afterwards. How was she supposed to love him if she was scared of him?

He very distinctly remembers the moment when it was announced that two people from the same District could win the Games. He remembers it so vividly because Clove kissed him when it happened. Whatever he had been harbouring for her spilled over in an instant, and after a few seconds of just staring at each other, he responded by giving her another one right back. It was the first time in the arena that he felt genuinely happy and hopeful – he could be with Clove. He wouldn't have to kill her. It was a song of pure relief to his ears.

He remembers Clove avoiding him like the plague for three days straight afterwards, his heart suffering because of it. He tried to talk to her about what happened, but his pride kept him from doing so – he would talk when she would. But on the day she did finally decide to speak to him about it, he didn't even give her a chance when he saw her mouth forming the words 'I'm sorry' – he instead kissed her mercilessly under he rendered her quiet, taken aback by his passionate actions. Cato was passionate in everything he did, and this was no different.

He remembers telling her how they would be the next best thing when they won and returned to District 2. Everyone would adore them. He told her this while he applied delicate kisses anywhere she would allow him to. He was tender for the first time in weeks – he may be a ruthless killing machine, but he still had the slightest bit of a conscience left.

It struck him faintly that the people watching them probably thought they were copying the District 12 tributes, who were just so madly, desperately in love with each other! Oh! to which he simply sneered. He and Clove were the real thing, and he intended to keep it that way. Let it be known that he, too, was in love with his partner.

About a week later, after the announcement of the feast, he blurted out his love for her absent-mindedly, though truthfully. He felt as though a weight was taken off his shoulders at his confession – she knew now. But his heart sank when she didn't say the words back to him – but that was okay. As long as she knew how he felt, that was all that mattered. He kissed her that night and went prepared for sleep, not knowing that that would be their last night together. He stayed awake for a short bit, further analyzing his confession. While he had admitted it out of the sheer need for her to know, there was a certain horror to the joyful admittance that mitigated his happiness about it – had he said it out of the possibility of losing her, as well? Cato knew full well that he would do anything in his power to protect her, and that they had just as good a chance as any of going home, but he also knew there was still the small chance something could happen to either of them. And he knew that he didn't want to die – and didn't want her to die – without him confessing to her his true feelings. He wanted her to know his love and hope and trust for her, just in case something did happen.

He brushed his grave feelings off then and succumbed to sleep. He and Clove both decided he would spot her in the forest and that she would go to the feast to retrieve their bag – nothing could go wrong. Except everything did.

Cato remembers walking farther into the forest that he promised, trusting in Clove completely that she could easily handle herself. It was a few minutes after he left her that he heard her blood-curdling scream, and felt his blood freeze in his veins, his heart stop momentarily. In that second, everything around him didn't matter anymore and he ran and ran and ran, only aware of the blood rushing through his ears, his heaving lungs that he strained to allow him to run just that much faster, and that dammit, dammit, dammit! Clove was in trouble and he wasn't there to help her.

He remembers arriving at the field too late and watching the rock in Thresh's hand make contact with her temple twice, before he tossed it aside and yelled something at Twelve, and then both rushed off. Breath hitched in his throat as his heart swelled with horror, he bolted towards her, crying out to her frantically.

This wasn't happening, it wasn't happening, it wasn't happening to either of them!

He rushed to her side instantaneously, holding her and checking her head over and over again. Cradling her, he whispered, tears running down his face that he wiped away furiously, "Clove, please, don't go. Stay here with me – just hold on. We're still going to win this, I promised you. Together. Please, Clove, talk to me! Clove, I'm begging you, don't...!"

He saw her eyelids fall ever-so slightly, an in a frantic attempt to keep her there with him, he kissed her feverishly. She clutched to him as though she was going to lose her life at any moment, and he sobbed harder, silently. Everything he'd worked towards with his girl, was about to die, like her, within moments, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

He heard her whisper she loves him then, loves him more than anything else in her life. And for that fleeting second, they were blissful, but then it was whisked away and he hastily told her the same back.

"I love you, Clove, I love you!"

And then, as he watched the life drain from her eyes and felt her hand go limp in his, his heart shattered suddenly and his mind broke in two. All of his anguish and distress evaporated, and he had never been so aggravated and vengeful and hateful and downright enraged in his entire existence. His hope was broken, his resolve dissolved, and dark thoughts penetrated his head. He looked in the direction Thresh went and glared viciously – his demise would come soon. And it would be sweet, so, so sweet.

Looking back down at his beloved, a wave of pain fount its way onto his stony face for a few seconds, and he pressed one last kiss to her cold, dead lips before standing up and turning away. He refused to look back at her eternally sleeping form – if he did, then he might just have broken down in full-fledged tears.

And so his face went steely again, death in his eyes, as he walked, and then ran, away. He would avenge her and kill Thresh. He would make him feel the pain that both he and Clove felt in that last moment they had together – oh, he would feel it.

Two days later, after having hunted his love's killer ruthlessly, he accidentally came across the brutish District 11 boy, and with a crazed gleam look in his eyes, Cato chased Thresh endlessly. They ran forever and ever it seems, until Thresh tripped and fell to the ground, to his demise.

He kicked and flailed and punched and held his own against the fuming District 2 tribute, but when he was clubbed over the head by Cato's sword and became momentarily disoriented, Cato took his chance and lodged the death device into the other's head, slowly – like Clove's death. Thresh's screams went unheard to Cato – instead, all he did was smile dementedly. He did it, he avenged her death. All was even now.

A few moments of bone-chilling shouts had passed, and then Thresh lay there, dead, a sword lodged through his skull and into his brain. Cato stared at his fellow tribute for a few minutes, before he extracted the sword and wiped the blood off on the grass beside Thresh's head.

He stares a little longer, before nodding triumphantly.

I did it, Clove. All for you. He got what he deserved.

Cato stalked off back to the lake then, to wait for Lover Boy and Twelve.

This is what Cato remembers upon avenging her death.

And he regrets nothing.


End file.
